


For Harry

by MarauderChick09



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Emotional, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 02:53:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarauderChick09/pseuds/MarauderChick09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She didn't know if he would ever read them. She didn't know why it was so important to her. She didn't even know if they were necessary. All Lily knew was that she wanted to be there. She wanted to experience every milestone in her son's life, and help him through. But she couldn't. So she wrote the letters. A series of letters from Lily to Harry. R&R, please!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dear Harry,   
I know that all of this must seem very ridiculous to you. After all, it is sort of a corny idea, and reading letters from your dead mother is probably the last thing you want to do right now. Right now, you're not worried about the idle observations of a woman you barely remember; your thinking about Hogwarts. Your wondering which house you'll be in, stressing about whether or not you'll be any good at Quidditch, and anticipating all of the little friends your going to make. But this is important to me, love, and even if your not going to pay attention to a thing I write, I need to do this, for my sanity. I don't expect you to understand-its sort of a mom thing- but I am asking you to listen. 

Because the thing is, I'm supposed to be there. I'm supposed to be helping you pick out your robes, I'm supposed to be calming you down when your too scared to go through to the Platform, and, once I've convinced you, I'm supposed to have a sudden change of heart and embarrass you by starting to cry. Thats supposed to be me, I'm your mother, but for reasons that you're too young to understand right now, I can't do those things. I hope that when you get a little older, you'll be able to understand, and I hope you won't be too angry with me. If you ever are, just know that if I could be there, I would. I would give anything to be there with you right now, to witness all of the important moments in your life, but right now, there's nothing I can do. There are horrible things happening in our world, Harry, things that I now realize I shouldn't have become so involved in. I've put our family in danger, and the only thing I can do to make it right is forcing me to be away from you. Deep in my heart, I guess I've always known this is where I was heading, and I know I've done the best that I could, given the circumstances. But like I said, you're too young, and in you're mind, these excuses mean next to nothing. What does mean something is that I'm supposed to be there, and I'm not, and for that, I am so, so sorry. But we'll save that for another letter.

Your father doesn't get why I write these. "You worry too much, Lily," he says, "don't be so morbid!" I told him once, and he was still confused. He tried to comfort me though, because thats just the type of person he is. He hates that I blame myself, and he hates that I'm in pain, and I love him for that. But I have to do this, just in case. If we make it through this, I'll rip this letter to shreds, I promise. You'll never even have to see it. But right now, we can't be sure of anything. Everything is up in the air, and if things end badly, I need to be prepared. I feel like I'd be jinxing it if I wasn't. Like just because I didn't have a Plan B, something would happen to make me wish I had. I've always been that way, and maybe this being in hiding has made me even more superstitious, I don't know. And I don't care. This is my Plan B, and I'm going to see it through. 

Anyways, I've gotten off topic. The reason I'm writing this specific letter isn't to make you feel scared, or start missing me, or wonder why things couldn't have ended differently. No, the purpose of this one is to give advice. And I haven't done any of that yet. So, here we go.

When I first got my Hogwarts letter, I wasn't very surprised. I hope you weren't either, it seems like it would be sort of a nasty shock. Of course, I wouldn't know. When I was young, I was always noticing things, as I'm sure you were, that were different about me. I wasn't like the other kids. Sometimes, when they were mean to me, strange things would happen. Like one time, in second grade, when Gabriel Delfino called me 'carrots', I made a whole tower of blocks fall down on her head, without even trying! My teacher was furious, and my parents screamed at me, but all I could tell them was that I hadn't meant to hurt her, it just happened! As I got older, things like that started happening more and more frequently, until I was forced to admit that there was something weird about me. I tried to keep it a secret, but of course people noticed, and I had virtually no friends. That is, except Severus. He and his family moved in to one of the lower income neighborhoods in town when I was about nine years old. He saw me once when I was showing your Aunt Petunia some of my magic, and he immediately knew what I was (his mum was a witch). I was thrilled when he told me, finally I had an explanation for everything that had happened to me over the years! I wasn't a freak, after all! There was a while race of people just like me. I thought it was just about the coolest thing ever, definitely not something you expected to happen to a mousy, ginger haired girl from Surrey. Sev told me all about Hogwarts and the entire wizarding world, so that on my eleventh birthday, it wasn't really much of a bombshell. For me, anways. My family on the other hand....

I come from a family of Muggles, or non magic people, and to say they had trouble adapting would be an understatement. Oh, they were supportive, of course (save for Tuney), but realistically, dad was an english teacher, mum was a nurse. They had no idea what was going on. I read once that muggle borns are actually the descendants of squibs, but my folks, I love them to death, definitely did not get the gene. It was all me. I was alone, preparing to dive headfirst into a world that I knew very little about. There was Severus, of course, but he had his own problems to worry about. 

Despite being slightly stressful, that summer was the best of my life. I absolutely adored my new surroundings; Diagon Alley fascinated me especially. Gringotts sort of freaked me out (all those goblins!) but I loved Flourish and Botts, swot that I am, and Ollivanders was easily my favorite shop of all time, even if the owner was a bit creepy. At the Magical Menagerie, mum even agreed to let me buy myself an owl! I named her Helga, after one of the founders of my beloved school. I had read all of my text books by a month before the first day of term and, on September 1st, I was completely ready to embrace my new life. 

I was sorted into Gryffindor, to my extreme displeasure. I had wanted Slytherin, because that was obviously the one Severus thought was the best, and where he had been placed. He was the only person I knew in the entire castle, and I was nervous, to say the least, that no one else would be as accepting as he was towards me. Looking back, it seems sort of ridiculous that I was under the impression that the Slytherins were the ones who were going to be the most welcoming towards me. Over the course of the next few years, it became apparent that I'd dodged a bullet there. Not that I'm trying to get you to form predjudices or anything- there were a few Slytherins who were able to look past my family tree and act civil towards me, my very best friend being one of them, but for the most part, the blood running through my veins was enough to garner the disdain of most of the house. Your father was in Gryffindor too, along with your Uncle Sirius, Uncle Remus, Uncle Peter, Uncle Frank, Aunt Alice, and mum's friends Marlene and Dorcas. But don't let that scare you. It really doesn't matter which house you're in, they're all brilliant, and being accepted into Hogwart's at all is an honor. I'm sure you'll do well, no matter where The Sorting Hat puts you ( it is just a hat-don't let any of the upperclassmen try to convince you otherwise), although Gryffindor does run in the family.

I needn't have worried so much about making friends. I shared a dormitory with Alice, Marley, and Dorcas, and within a week, all of my inhibitions had vanished. We went to class together, ate lunch together, and stayed up late gossiping and doing other girlish things you probably have no interest in hearing about. I didn't lose touch with Sev, either, like I'd feared, we spent a lot of time after lessons together as well. I can only hope that you'll make as good of friends as I did at Hogwarts. Alice had a son around the same time I did-he should be getting ready to go to school now, too. Neville, his name is. Neville Longbottom. Keep an eye out, will you?

No matter what, I'm sure that the next seven years of your life will be extraordinary. You'll find your niche, and I know Professor McGonagall is hopeful that you'll inherit your father's talent for Transfiguration, almost as much as she is fearful that you'll inherit mine. Maybe you'll play Quidditch, it seems like something you'd enjoy. Merlin knows you spend enough time on that god-forsaken broomstick than is really considered healthy. Be careful with that, I would hate for you to get hurt, and your father has sustained enough injuries over the years playing that awful game for the both of you. Don't get it any fights, and don't try and live up to your father's legacy. I'm sure a lot of the professors (and your Uncle Padfoot) will remember the sort of trouble he got into at your age, and you may hear a few stories about the various pranks he pulled. Some people seemed to find them amusing, but I certainly did not, and I promise you that if you pull anything half as bad as he did, I will come back from the grave and punish you myself. If you want a sure fire way to piss off a Gryffindor girl, set off a dungbomb in her dormitory in the middle of the night. Go on, I dare you.

When you get to be a 5th or 6th year, don't be mean to the children. Your father used to do that, and it irked me to no end. Just consider how scared you were of the upperclassmen when you were young, and then think twice about whatever it is your getting ready to throw at them. Oh, and avoid the fifth stair on the staircase leading up to the astronomy tower, it disappears sometimes, and if your not careful, you could end up stuck there for days. Never call McGonagall 'Minnie', thats sure to get you a week's worth of detention, and its not worth it. Also, don't harass any poor unsuspecting girls; no means no, and no matter how much you like them, publicly humiliating them is not going to get then to return your feelings. 

I think thats it. I'm done. Really, I am. No more advice, no more rules, I'm really not sure how much they'll help anyways. But its what I'd say if I were there. 

I love you, Harry, I always have, and I always will, even now that I'm gone. 

Love Always,  
Mum


	2. When You're Feeling Sad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please comment, and keep on reading! I know this one was super long, but this is my first story, so I'd really love to know what you think. I do not own Harry Potter.

Dearest Harry,  
I probably should've been more specific with this title. I know its sort of vague-so I'll explain. The purpose of this letter is not to comfort you when you're feeling sad over any old thing. So, if thats why you've opened it, then please put it away now. Because the type of sad that I'm trying to help you with isn't the sort of emotion that results from mundane everyday happenings. You don't feel it when you get a T on one of your OWLs, or when you get into a fight with your best mate. Its not the sort of thing that a lot of people experience, but you, my dear, are going to be one of the unlucky few who does.

I'm talking about the pain you feel when you lose someone you love. I was fortunate enough that I didn't have to feel it when I was so very young, and when I got older, I knew how to deal with it. In the world I live in now, the world that so many people have died to keep you from living in, loss is a common occurence. I've dealt with it a handful of times, not so many that I'm used to it, per se, but at least enough that I'm not so shocked anymore when it comes.

The first was Sev. I told you about him in the last letter, love, do you remember? He was my best friend. Was being the key word. He's not anymore. Oh, he's still alive, so I haven't lost him in that sense, for which I am greatful, because it would have been infinitely more painful to lose all hope. As it stands now, there is only a shred left, a shred that I'm too ashamed most of the time to acknowledge, but I'll do it here, because if there's a chance it might make you feel better, there's very little I wouldn't do at this point. 

This loss probably would've been the easiest to deal with, if it hadn't been first. The first is always the hardest, and I'm not entirely convinced that if this one hadn't served as that painful benchmark in my life that it would have been nearly as hard. The thing is, I loved Sev. I loved him so much; not in the way some people thought, but it was love all the same, and it hurt to have to let him go. But I was sixteen when our friendship ended-inexperienced, naive, and overly emotional. I thought that I was right about everything-and when I had an opinion on someone or something, anything, it took a lot to persuade me to change it. I didn't like to consider the possibility that I was wrong-to entertain the notion that I didn't already know everything there was to know about the world. This would become a problem in a few years, a big one, but up until then, it had never really cause too much trouble. To tell you the truth, I was right, most of the time, but I was too stubborn. I was blind-especially when it came to Severus. For years, people had been asking me why I hung out with him, telling me I could do better, but this only strengthened my resolve. In my mind, he was still the sweet little boy who had saved me from myself, the one who introduced me to this grand new world in which I was flourishing so well, and that I loved so much. To be honest, what happened between us probably could've been prevented-if I'd been paying attention to the warning signs. I could've bowed out gracefully, blamed our seperation on our conflicting personalities- the particulars of which had became apparent as we grew older- or maybe the fact that we were in seperate houses, and never got to see each other anymore. Not that any of that was true, but whatever. The fact remains that I didn't, and that what should've been completley obvious to me at that point came as a shock, making it all the nastier.

A part of me is glad that it didn't play out that way. After all, I would've only been lying to myself, and no good can ever come from that. But more so, the abrubtness of it all woke me up, forced me to acknowledge all of the ugliness that was going on around me, and to embrace reality more readily. It seems less pathetic to blame it all on a single incident, though thats not exactly right either, and it made me feel strong to take all the pain in one huge dose, rather than dole it out over small intervals whenever I felt like it. I think that otherwise, things would've carried on in that awkward manner for much, much longer, and I would've missed all the opportunities for love so much stronger than what I felt for Severus. If I'd never ended it with him, I would've of never truly opened up to the girls, or your Uncle Padfoot. Not even your father. I would've gone a different way entirely, been living a completely different life right now. I might even be alive as you read this, which you wouldn't be doing, because you wouldn't have to be worrying about this type of pain so early, and if by some sick twist of fate you did, I would be there to explain it to you. Sev, however good his intentions, was shielding me from all of this, and from who I truly was. Fate had me going a different way, a way that would eventually carry me away from him. 

But like I said, I was too stubborn to realize it at first. I refused to believe that sometimes, love all by itself isn't enough. Outside influences affected our relationship, affected all of my relationships, and continue to affect them, much more than I was willing to admit. 

It all started around fourth year. Voldemort was on the rise, becoming more of a factor in my everyday life. So far, it was just that I read about him more often in the papers, that the professors would snap at us more than usual , and that some people, the sort of people who I'd never been stupid enough to try and form connections with anyways (thank Merlin) were acting differently toward me- and toward every other person like me. I didn't think about it much, in fact, I made it a point not to, but I was definitely concious of it, and I knew that, sooner or later, it was going to hit the fan. Unfortunately, I was right. When I was fourteen, You-Know-Who set his sights on Hogwarts. It was the ultimate target, and probably where he'd been heading all along. If you took down Dumbledore, and gained control of the most famous wizarding school in the world, all in one move, not only did you prove your status as the most powerful wizard of all time (don't get any ideas!) but you also stood to gain the support of all of the students there, and increase your number of followers by thousands. Two birds with one stone, an attack on the institution was inevitable. But thats just it; Voldemort didn't attack- at least not right away. He's not a stupid man, as much as I'd like to be able to claim otherwise. Sick, twisted? Yes. Evil? Voldemort is probably the only truly evil being to ever inhabit the earth. His soul has been distorted to the point of no return. He is not capable of genuine remorse, and he will never be able to truly care about anyone. He is a monster, not even truly human anymore. But dumb is one thing he has never been. He knew that he didn't have the numbers or skill within those numbers to take down what is probably one of the most secure places in the entire Wizarding World, even more so than the Ministry of Magic, which he hadn't been able to overrun yet, either. He knew that he needed more support, and so he decided to infect us, destroy us from the inside out. He wanted to break our ranks, seperate us from each other, make it so that we were not really allies; so that we did not really trust each other. He went after the one wink link we had- the students. His plan was to turn brother against brother, friend against friend. He succeeded. 

It probably began far before I noticed it, which was just a few months after term started. Some of the Slytherins-I don't think it was happening in any of the other houses yet- were acting strangley. That is, more strangely than usual. A few of them- the ones who came from the old families, with surnames like Black and Rosier, which commanded the rest of our respect and stopped us from asking too many questions- began to skip classes, missing two in a day at the least, and not being seen for an entire 24 hours at a time in the most extreme cases. They were mostly boys, mostly pureblood, and it didn't take long for us common people to get hip. By the time they started to host official meetings, and refusing to wear any of the short sleeve uniform shirts (Dwayne MacDougal even went so far as to quit his Quidditch team when they wouldn't let him wear a long sleeve jersey), it was pretty obvious what was going on. You-Know-Who was recruiting.

Things instantly went into a panic. The three houses whose numbers hadn't been infiltrated yet banded together, turning the Slytherins into outcasts. They didn't care-they continued about their business of hexing muggle borns in the corridors and spouting off rubbish about the importance of a clean family line during breakfast in the Great Hall- and there was nothing we could do about it. It was hard to distinguish who was an object of His interests and who wasn't, seeing as we had seperated ourselves from them from them so completeley. We even went so far as to refuse to sit next to them in classes; you could never be too careful, and the professors were forced to comply, or else they'd never get there lessons done. It became increasingly difficult to mantain my close relationship with Sev ( we were a big source of scandal- the Muggleborn and the Reclusive Slytherin, oh my!) and it didn't help that he was basically the Hogwarts equivalent of Undesirable Number One. 

It was those friends of his. When he wasn't hanging out with me, he spent most of his time with these two horrible boys- Eddie Mulciber and Jack Avery, for whom there was no question. They were prime examples of the type of people who you should not be hanging around with- both came from known blood purist families and both had a shifty look about them that suggested they were up to no good. They did nothing to dispute their reputations, and it was pretty much accepted as fact. They were Death Eaters-two of about ten who everybody knew were guilty. I heartily dissproved of Sev's close relationship with them, but he didn't care. 'Who else am I going to hang out with, Lil?' he asked, whenever I brought it up, 'you're not always around, you know. They're pretty brill guys, once you get to know them. I don't know why you have your knickers in a twist." He dismissed my concerns, but I was still worried. Sev was such a smart guy, no doubt the Death Eaters would see him as a valuable asset-what if Avery and Mulciber were trying to win points with their comrades? What if they succeeded? What if they changed him? The rest of the student body had these same questions, but they weren't as willing to risk it. To them, he was a lost cause. Once they got their hooks in you, they were never letting go. 

It happened slowly. So slowly, in fact, that I didn't even notice at first. Severus would sneer whenever a muggleborn asked a question about something magical, or 'accidentaly' trip one of them when we passed them in the halls. This only happened once or twice a month, not a common occurence, and not something that I payed much attention to. My friends were more observant, and tried to warn me, but, as usual, I ignored them. I knew they didn't like Sev, and I thought they were just using this as an excuse to pull us apart. After all, Severus was never openly rude towards me, and perhaps his dislike for those people had nothing to do with the blood running through their veins. Perhaps he just didn't like them. I became very upset when anyone suggested otherwise, and pretty soon, they learned to just keep quiet. They figured I would learn my lesson soon enough, and I did. 

It was just after our DADA OWLs, the last of the lot, and the majority of the fifth years were outside, discussing the various questions and celebrating the fact that the all of the grueling examinations were finally over. I was by the lake, chatting with all of the usual suspects-when Marley got this really strange look on her face and pointed at something going on behind me. 'Umm, Lil,' she said, looking worried. 'You're not gonna like this.' So I turned around, curious as to what was making her act so oddly. And do you know what I saw? I saw your father, my arch-nemesis at the time (thats a whole nother story, I'll get to that in another letter) dangling poor Severus by his ankles with his wand, backed my his three partners in crime, only one of which had the decency to look slightly uncomfortable (Remus, of course). 

Now, if I hated your dad, it was nothing compared to how Sev felt about him. They absolutley loathed each other. James was one of the people who ostracised the Slytherins-and while his intentions were good, he went about it in a completely inappropriate manner. Unlike most of our classmates, who simply avoided each other like the plague, he made his mission to personally antagonize each and every one of them. I can't even say how many times he was caught sneaking out for a midnight duel that year, or slipping strange concoctions he and his mates had cooked up into their tables' supply of rice just before dinner time. And his main target? My best friend. They'd never gotten along, on the contrary, they'd always been bitter enemies, but when Sev showed an interest in the dark arts, it only got worse. The two of them bickered constantly; purposely spilling vials of acid on each other's hand in Potions class, shooting each other dirty looks across the classroom for no apparent reason, and always expecting me to settle their stupid arguments. They were ridiculous. Both of them. I'm not going to pretend that Potter was the only one at fault. But that didn't mean I was just going to sit around and watch him torture Severus without cause. He didn't deserve it-and I sure as hell wasn't going to sit around and let it happen when there was something to be done! 

So I got up, and I stormed over there. I was fed up with their petty little fued. By then, things had gotten worse between me and Sev; we weren't spending as much time together, and his lapses were becoming more and more frequent. He was grumpy, and moody, and he had even begun to miss some classes-his behavior was such that I just couldn't turn a blind eye any longer. Still, I refused to let him go. I tried to breach the subject a few times, but he always either rushed right off, muttering some pathetic excuse as he went, or quickly changed the subject. I thought I could persuade him to change, that maybe my old childhood friend would come back to me if I just talked to him about it. I was a bit of a fool. 

By the time I made my way over to their spot underneath the beech tree, a small crowd of onlookers had assembled. They stared at me as I marched past- but I didn't care. Instantly, I started screaming my head off- I've always had a bit of a temper, but my insults didn't seem to affect your father. Instead of dropping Severus like I'd requested, he simply smirked at me in that irritating way of his and told me that he'd let him go only if I agreed to go on a date with him. He'd been asking me all year, and though it'd always annoyed me, I'd been perfectly civil, declining his offers politely time after time. Apparently, he hadn't gotten the message. Something about the way he did it this time-the way he looked at me, really ticked me off. I snapped. Never have I ever been as rude to someone in my entire life as I was just then, and I guess I got to him, because he finally released Sev, with a mumbled, offhand comment about his always needing me to come and rescue him.

I was fuming, and about to hightail it out of there before I could do/say something I would regret when Severus, who hadn't said a single word since my arrival on the scene, finally looked up. He had a look of such hatred on his face-I'd never seen anything like it, and I wasn't sure what to make of it. Then, he spoke. 'I don't need help from flithy little Mudbloods like her!' he spat, looking truly disgusted. Those were his exact words. At that moment, my whole world stopped. I couldn't breath, I couldn't think; I was in complete shock. Not wanting to let him see that he'd gotten to me- the whole crowd was now looking at me with bated breath, awaiting my reaction to his words- I simply brushed it off. Your father, noble as ever, ordered him to forgive me, but I didn't think he was any better. He was cruel and arrogant and if it weren't for him, none of this would have ever happened. I told him so, and then, without further adieu, I ran back toward the castle. I could tell I was on the brink if tears, and there was no way I was going to cry in front of them. The dormitory, however, in front of Marley and Dorcas, was a different story. I sobbed and sobbed for hours without pause, because it was over. That may seem a but dramatic, but I saw it as more symbolic than anything else. I had chosen my way, and he had chosen his. There was no more me and Sev, no more friendship-he had betrayed me. 

I can count the times I've spoken to him since then on one hand, easy. There was once that very same night; he came to the portrait hole late at night, begging me to forgive him, but, of course, I didn't. He showed up at my house a few times over the summer, as well, but I never actually spoke to him- just instructed mum to send him away each time he came 'round, which she did. Eventually, it just stopped. He confronted me again twice over the course of our sixth year, but each time led to even more bitter words being said, and left me feeling worse than I had before. Seventh year passed without incident, and I thought that it would be the same once we graduated, but I was wrong. We met once just before I got married, on accident, and it was painfully awkward. We didn't know what to say to each other- we were no longer the same people. Two years is a long time, and things change. People change. We both grew up, and apart, and we could no longer talk to each other the way we use too. I saw him again about a year and a half ago, right around the time I found out I was pregnant with you. I was at the market with Sirius, and he'd just gone off to get something he'd forgotten in another aisle, when Sev called my name. This time, it wasn't a chance meeting that brought us together. He'd sought me out, and not for the reason I immediatley hoped. He'd come to convince me, on His orders. He told me that You-Know-Who thought I had great potential, and would be honored if I would join him. He promised me cash and security, attempting to lure me in, I suppose. Obviously, I refused. And then, just as I was about to bring up the hippogriff in the room, Sirius came back, there was an awkward silence, and, with one last cold look, Sev billowed off. I haven't heard from him again-and I don't really expect to. By now, I've accepted that its over. Its much too late to remedy the situation, theres way too much history between us now, and I think I'm finally okay with that. Don't get me wrong, it took me a long time to get that way. But I had to, and I did, because the only way to truly deal with loss is to move on. That may sound corny, in fact, that definitely sounds corny, but its true. Whats happened to you is unfair, and you have every right to be angry- at me, at your father, at fate; whoever you want to blame. But the only way to feel better, to get rid of the pain you're feeling once and for all, is to accept the fact that its over. 

I know what you must be thinking; what do I know? I haven't been through the same things you have-Sev isn't dead. I could pick up the phone, or grab a quill, and call him up whenever I wanted, couldn't I? Its not like that for you-you've never even met the people who make you feel such inexpicable grief. You've had to go through life constantly hearing about and being compared to two people who you've never known. You'll never have a mother to embarrass you at school functions, or a father to ask for advice about how to woo that girl you fancy so much (not that your father would be the best person to go to in that case, but you get the point). No matter what you do, we're never coming back. You'll never be able to point to two people and say 'those are my parents', and for that, I'm so, so sorry. You're right, I've never been through that- Sev's figurative death has nothing on what you must be feeling. But death is a part of this world too, and people I loved have left me in that way, as well.

My mum and dad were the best. Unlike you, I got the chance to be with them before they died, so I suppose its not quite as bad, but seeing as they were murdered much the same way as we were, I figure its at least comparable. But I'm burying the lead here. 

This loss is more recent, fresher in my mind, and because of that, it still hurts to think about. Growing up, we were really close. When I found out I was a witch, unlike most of my family, they were completley supportive, and I loved them all the more for it. For that summer, and all the ones since then, I've spent most of my time with them; none of my magical mates lived near my home in Surrey, and my sister's friends were off-limits. So I spent my days chatting and cooking with mum in our small, homey kitchen, and the nights watching cheesy sitcoms on the telly with dad. The day I moved out was one of the happiest and most depressing of my life. On one hand, I was going to live with your father, which I'd been fantasizing about ever since we began dating a few months before, and I was going to have more freedom, but on the other, there was mum, giving me a watery smile and hugging me so tightly that I had to remind her to give me time to breath in between attacks, and dad, puffing out his chest and trying to conceal the few tears that managed to escape his fortress of manhood. I'll admit, for a moment, I wasn't sure if I wanted to go, but the thought of Petunia and all of the other people in my small, narrow minded hometown who had shunned me finally convinced me. I didn't belong to the same world that they did; not anymore. I had grown up, become a new person. That house, that street, those people, they all held to many reminders of the painful life I had led for the past eighteen years. I had to let go of the old things to make way for the new. For the most part, that didn't bother me - there wasn't much about my old life that I felt was worth preserving-but my parents were one, if not the only part that I wish I could've held on too.

Of course, we still spoke. I was on the phone with mum at least three times a week, but it wasn't the same. I was busy with work, and the Order, and I couldn't really talk to them about the things that were always on my mind. Like the war, for example. They tried their best to be supportive, but at the end of the day, they just didn't get how big of an impact it was having on me. It was better to go to James, or Marley, with those sort of issues rather than worry mum and dad over something they could never fully comprehend. That killed me, because as close as we were, they could never be a big part of my life. For one thing, I didn't want to put them in danger, and for another, we couldn't connect on eventhe most basic of levels. Not that I blamed them for that-not in the least! It wasn't their fault they weren't magical. All I'm saying is that it would've been nice to have that sort of relationship with them. 

Straight away after I graduated from Hogwarts, I became a big part of the resistance movement. By the time I was nineteen, he had spies everywhere. You didn't know who to trust, and people were dissappearing by the hundreds. Even our government wasn't safe. Voldemort was on the verge of taking over, and I was eager to do everything in my power to stop it. The way I saw it, just sitting around and allowing it to happen was just as bad as becoming an official Death Eater. So many people were suffering; people just like me, in nine cases out of ten, and they didn't have the opportunity to make a change. I did. So as soon as I got out of school, I suited up. I began training to become a Healer, joined the Order, and did my best to support all of those who were being hurt by this horrible war, the darkest period in wizarding history since the pre-Hogwarts days. It was pretty common knowledge what my stance was on the whole thing, and I made some pretty powerful enemies. We all did. I guess You-Know-Who didn't like the fact that there were still people out there who had the courage to stand up for what they  
believed in; he had most of the rest of the world crushed under the heel of his boot. He tried to eliminate us-repeatedly sending Death Eaters to launch attacks on our Headquarters and during various missions-but we were too strong. The great thing about the Order was that it was completely untainted-no one suspected anyone (for the first few years, at least), and we all had each others backs. Not to mention the fact that we were possesed of some of the most talented witches and wizards of our, and a handful of other, generations (your father and Dumbledore included). When his attempts at violence failed, Voldemort, ever the persistent one, decided to hit us where it really hurt. If he couldn't damage us physically, he could attack us emotionally. 

The first one to go was Hestia Jones' grandmum. This was a real shock; Tabitha Jones was a well respected member of the pureblood community-this couldn't just be a coincidence. Immediatley, we became suspicious. We could think of only one reason for Him to go after an entirely innocent pureblood woman. 

Next came Jonathan Vance. This was a little more plausible-Emma was half-blood, with her father's family being the Muggle side of the equation. But still, it was a little confusing. Jonathan had no idea about the war; he was completley uninvolved. And while none of us would put it above Voldemort to attack random Muggles, just for fun, it seemed a little too coincidental. What were the odds that, out of the millions of Muggles living all around England, He would choose to murder one so closely connected with one of his main oppositioners, completley unprovoked? 

We finally caught on after two of Dorcas' pureblood relatives were found dead in the living room of their suburban home on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole. Her aunt and uncle were so unassuming that I can't even remember their names; there was no reason for Voldemort to single them out, and we weren't stupid. The three murders were utterly pointless, and unconnected, except for one thing. They were all family members of some of the most powerful and involved members of the Order of the Phoenix. 

Once we knew what his plan was, we immediatley sprung into action. People like Remus and I, whos families hadn't been targeted yet, tried our best to explain to them the kind of danger they were in without frightening them, or giving too much away, and then shielded their respective residents with as many wards and anti-detection spells as possible. Moving them would've been too suspicious, and it was the worst possible idea to draw anymore attention towards ourselves than we already had. I spent the next two weeks traveling all across the country, visiting distant cousins and great great aunts, trying to make sure everyone was sufficiently protected. Really, I knew that if Voldemort really wanted to get them, he would find a way, but I still had to try. The last time I saw my sister was on the day when I arrived on her dull, simpleminded suburban street and told her everything that had been going on. Naturally, she was furious at my 'abnormality' causing even more trouble for her than it already had; this time, threatning the lives of she and her orcha-whale of a fiancé. Even Petunia wasn't pig-headed enough to refuse my help, but we left each other on less than friendly terms. Those who had already been assailed (the Jones, Vance, and Meadowes families) had it a bit easier, and virtually all of them were given fake names and moved to remote areas of our and various other neighboring countries. Once all of that was taken care of, we shifted our attentions to the more immediate family; the ones we knew it was too late to move or protect. People who we had never made a secret of our affection for; the ones who would definitely become targets at one point or another. There was very little we could do for these ones, besides instructing them to lay low and keep out of the public eye for awhile. I was terrified-I had seen what the attacks had done to Hestia and Emmeline and Dorcas-and willing to do anything I could to stop this from happening to me.

Against Dumbledore's orders, I explained the situation in vivid detail to my parents, and, needless to say, they were horrified. They begged me to quit the Order, go into hiding, do something, anything, to protect myself, but I refused. I told them that it wasn't about me; it was about them, and their safety. This had them outraged, but I didn't care. I just wanted to make them understand. Despite their protests, I finally got through to them(after many long hours of pleading and desperate reasoning) and, before I left that day, I cast spells even more complicated than the ones I'd used to protect my extended family- the most difficult ones I knew. This goodbye was different than the last one-worse- because I had to tell them I wasn't coming back. I'd tried to hint at it during our talk, but I don't think they got it, because this caused an even bigger uproar. It took me fifteen minutes to calm them down enough to reason with them, and another half an hour for this reasoning to take effect. This time, no one was trying to conceal their ters as I explained why I couldn't call, write to, or see them ever again. I told them I'd check in, watch from a safer distance, but this was only a small consolation. It was the worst pain I'd ever felt (up until that point) walking away from my childhood home-from the two people who I loved more than anything in the world. It was like someone had already died, but I managed to convince myself that their lives meant more to me than being able to be apart of them. I would sacrifice anything if I thought it would keep them safe.

I got the owl at 5:00 the next morning. I was getting ready for work, and trying to lure your father out of bed with the promise of a stack of my famous homemade chocolate chip waffles that he loved so much, when a large tawny swooped through the window and dropped the letter on the kitchen table promptly before taking off again. I didn't even have time to tip him. Curious as to what kind of message could warrant such a swift departure (it almost seemed like the owl didn't want to stick around for my reaction), I quickly deserted the stubborn baby hairs and can of hairspray I had been tending to and cracked it open. It was a letter from Dumbledore, explaining my parents dissapearance and offering his condolences. Confused, I read it over again, and again, and again, until what he was telling me finally sank in. When it did, a feeling of abject horror came with it, and I let out an unearthly wailing sound that made your father come running. Everything after that is sort of a blur. All I know is, I'm surprised your father agreed to marry me after some of the things I did next. Barely concious of my actions, I felt my limbs swinging wildy, carrying me forwards, upturning the waffle maker and smashing the coffee pot in the process. The tears were blurring my vision, but I was just aware enough to register your dad picking up the letter, scanning the page quickly one time with serious eyes, and then turning back to me grimly. Other than that, I ignored him as I stormed about the room, destroying everything in my path as my body simultaneously rocked with sobs so powerful they made my stomach cramp up. This lasted for about an hour, during which James flooed both of our jobs and let them know we wouldn't be coming in that day, and I raged about like a tornado in the living room of our small, one bedroom flat. I wanted everything in the room to reflect the chaos I felt inside. Different emotions were fighting for dominance inside me-rage, guilt, sadness- it was overwhelming. And it didn't seem fair that everything around me was so neat and orderly when standing in the middle of it felt like I was being eaten alive. Finally, the grief became too much, and I flopped down on the sofa, one of the only pieces of furniture left that I hadn't damaged in some way or another, and just let the pain have me.

The next few weeks were horrible. I didn't understand why everything was being taken away from me; why, in the midst of the already nightmarish world I was living in, I was also being forced to give up those few things left that I truly cared for. Now, it seemed like everything was going to be taken away from me, in time; your father, Marley and Dorcas, the Order, and I didn't see the point in trying anymore. I sunk into a depression so deep it seemed like I would never resurface; it felt like I had had all of the life sucked out of me, like I'd been cornered by a crowd of dementors, all of whom decided to perform the kiss on me. I lashed out at everyone, never put any effort into anything, and refused to acknowledge anything good in my life. To me, there was no good. It was just me, alone, and nothing was ever going to get better.

I was lucky enough to be proven wrong. Fortunately, there was good, all the good in the world, right in front of me, and I had your father and all of my amazing friends to remind me of that. They stuck with me through my funk, putting up with all if my random mood swings and absence of feeling, working tirelessly to help me recover. They never faltered-never was there a time when they considered giving up, or when they doubted that I would go back to being Lily. It was hard work, but they were up for the job. I can't pinpoint the exact moment when the color started coming back into my life, but I know it was because of them that I got off my arse and started to live it again. 

Of course, I wasn't totally wrong. The world was a scary place, especially then, for a bunch of kids with only hardly any real world experience. We were forced to grow up way too fast; we never had the chance to fool around or make stupid mistakes like most teenagers do. Our glory days were spent discussing battle tactics, training in self defense,and planning weddings. In the span of four years, I went from little girl to mature woman without even knowing what was happening. I don't want that for you, Harry, and thats why I'm trying my best to fight against all of the odds stacked against us. While I'm perfectly aware that you'll never be normal, in the traditional sense of the word, I want you to live in a better world, one where being normal is at least a possibilty. So, even when you are feeling sad, you have to live the life that I- and everyone else who loves you (because you do have so many-really)- have always wanted for you. Don't let the pain have you, not like I did. Go to school, make some friends, get drunk a few times, meet a girl, break her heart, whatever. I want you to be able to enjoy your youth, like I couldn't, not to have to depend on shreds of hope and small points of light that are the only things that make life worth living. Because when those things are taken away, it hits you hard, and some people may not have the strength to get back up. You might not have the strength to get back up. Because no matter what, no matter what kind of life you live, normal or otherwise, things change. People we love leave us, and even those small shreds of hope and random point of light don't stay forever. I learned that the hard way. 

I don't know why I was so surprised when it happened. By then, I should've been used to the feeling, used to losing people, but I guess it just never occured to me that one of the ever present figures in my life, one of the ones that I so depended on, could one day go away, too. It should have- I'm usually quite a sensible girl- and the constant danger me and the other Order members were in was always very apparent. But before this, it had never resulted in anything, it was more of a threat than a promise. Nothing serious had actually ever happened to one of us before. That is, until Dorcas.

Dorcas had always been talented. In school, she was the one who never really had to try; she just got it. She was the favorite of many of our professors, especially Professor Tolkien (she had a particular affinity for Defense Against the Dark Arts). Not only was she absolutley brilliant, but she also came from a long line of pureblood witches and wizards, which endeared her to most of Slytherin house, and had an outgoing, funloving sort of personality that made her one of the most popular girls in school. Not to mention, she was rather pretty. I was actually quite surprised in seventh year when I was chosen as Head Girl instead of her; she was the favorite choice for the job. Like me, she made no secret of her distaste for the dark arts, or Voldemort, and when Dumbledore began to hint at our doing something more for the cause, she was just as ready as I was. Her magical talent and her people skills made her a valuable asset, and we weren't the only ones who noticed. Soon after graduation, she caught the attention of 'the Dark Lord' himself, and when he wanted someone, he didn't give up. He began to court her, sending recruiters to the flat she shared with Emma and Marley, giving her extravagant gifts, and bothering her family. To this day, I'm not exactly sure why he latched onto her so completley- I suppose it was just the thrill of the chase- but I do know one thing. You can only refuse someone that dangerous so many times before things get ugly. Voldemort, especially, doesn't like to lose. If he couldn't have her-nobody could.

I still remember the last time I saw her. It was a few weeks before I found out I was pregnant-just a few months after our wedding, where she was a bridesmaid. She, Marley, Emmeline, Alice and I were having a girls night, just us five. We gossiped and ate Honeyduke's famous fudge and played stupid games just like we had when we were in school and we all shared a dormitory. It was a nice little reprieve from the world in turmoil around us, from a war that was seeming increasingly pointless as it wore on. After all, it had now been almost five years, and there had been little difference. If anything, the situation was just getting worse. But they always knew how to distract me-they were my best friends-and it was always hard to find time with them those days. That night was very important to me, to all of us, but Dorcas had to leave early. At 10:00, she announced that she was going home. She had to floo her mum, she explained when we protested, who'd been worried avout her ever since the death of her aunt and uncle three months before. We agreed, however grudgingly, and she told us to cheer up. "I'll see you guys tommorrow, anyways, " she said, smiling teasingly. "We have an Order meeting, remember?"

And we did. The next day, when your father and I showed up late to headquarters, neither Dorcas nor Marley and Emmeline were present. The room got really quite when we walked in, and then Hagrid, who used to love it when Dorcas and I would visit him back at Hogwarts, let out this big, gut wrenching sob that sounded like a two year old blowing on a tuba. I knew what had happened even before Dumbledore, who seemed to be the only calm person in the room (Hagrids crying had set off a chain reaction) began to explain. Apparently, Voldemort had payed a late night visit to Dorcas just after she'd gotten off the floo with her mum, who was in hysterics. Her body was discovered by Emmeline, who got home just a few minutes before Marley, who'd stuck around to say hello when James got back. Thats why they werent here-traumatized, as they should be. I can only imagine my reaction if I'd been the one. 

Dorcas' murder took a toll on all of us. She was the first Order member who'd been killed, and her death was sort of a wake up call. If Dorcas Meadowes, smart, talented, good natured Dorcas, was dead, it meant that the rest of us barely stood a chance. Losing one of my best friends wasn't as hard as the first time, or losing my parents, because her memory was enough to remind me that life went on, that this tragedy wasn't the end of the world. It was more the reality of the situation that was hard on me. Unlike last time, there were other people in pain, people who I loved, and I had to be the light for them that they'd been for me before. We all kept eachother going, and luckily, it wasn't long before both Alice and I discovered that we were with child. This helped, too. We knew Dorcas wouldn't want us dwelling on her; she would want us to be strong for our babies-to keep the legacy going. She was an amazing woman; I wish you could've met her. She would've loved you too, I'm sure.

Anyways, this has been a long letter, and I hope what I'm trying to say hasn't gotten lost in translation. The point is, loss happens to everyone, and its horrible. Its not an easy emotion to deal with, loss, and I'm not sure if anything I've said will really be able to help. Nothing that I can say will take away from your pain, but I hope that you know that I understand, and I can't stand the fact that I'm the reason for what your feeling. I'm your mother, I'm supposed to protect you from this sort of stuff. Instead, I'm causing it. But I have good intentions, I swear. I really do believe that my death is going to effect you less than living in this sort of world would. If I didn't, if I thought that there was even the smallest chance that I could avoid this somehow, I would take it. I'm sacrificing myself, your father, everything for you. And maybe it won't be necessary. Like I said, there is no gurantee that you'll never get to meet me. But in case you don't, and if it ever gets to be too much, come back to this letter, and read it over, and know that I was once a real person, who felt real things; not just an abstract concept that you sometimes hear about in passing at family functions. I lived, and loved, and lossed, just like you did. And I'm still here for you, whenever you need me. Be strong, Harry. 

Love,  
Lily

 

A/N: Thank you so much for reading :) I would really love some feedback (I'm not afraid of constructive criticism!) so please, please, take some time to leave a review. I hope you liked it!


	3. When You Meet Your First Love

Dear Harry,  
If you're reading this, then that means its happened. You've fallen in love for the very first time. This letter isn't one of the more serious ones-some might even argue that its not completley necessary, but this is an important milestone, and , as your mother, I feel I have the right to add my two sickles.

I don't blame you if you're rolling your eyes right now. Merlin knows that if my mum had ever tried to give me romantic advice, or, worse, share her own experience, I would've plugged my ears and la la la'd until she finally got the hint and shut up. I'm sure you want me to do the same (you have better things to do, am I right?), but, again, its what I would do if I was alive. You probably won't even listen; at your age, it seems like there's nothing else to know, but hopefully, the knowledge that it was one of your mother's dying wishes for you to read this letter will be enough to guilt you into it. I promise, it won't take too long.

Now that I'm thinking about it, there isn't really much to tell you. I don't want to ruin the experience by saying too much, and I don't really know all the details, so the things I can say won't be very specific. Honestly, I'm not even the most experienced on the subject anyways; I've had about two serious boyfriends in my life, only one of which I was actually in love with. I married him. My first love has been my only love, so I don't really know anything about heartbreak or naivety-- at least not in that sense. Most of the time, thats something to be greatful for; I'm sure most people wish their records could be as clean as mine, but, unfortunately, it means that I'm not very knowledgeable when it comes to teenage romance. Not that I haven't experienced it, because I have. Its just that not every relationship has the ideal fairytail ending that mine did, and if yours ends badly, there's really not much I can say to comfort you. 

In most ways, your father would probably have been the better person to ask (not that you ever asked me specifically in the first place); he's had much more experience than I have. I know for a fact that he started dating when we were in our second year, which was much earlier than the rest of us- save for maybe Sirius. I can't even count the number of girls I was forced to listen to sobbing when he broke up with them, ever since I turned thirteen years old. Your dad was a bit of a playboy, and most of his flings were good friends of mine-older girls who made the mistake of falling for one of the infamous Marauders, none of whom ever maintained a relationship that lasted more than a month (I'm not exaggerating). As the years went on, more and more girls began to give in to their charms-even the ones in my year- until it seemed they had collectivley snogged at least half of the school's female population-excluding relatives and younger students, of course. Even Emmeline-clever, sensible little Emma, dated Remus for a few weeks, and I'm pretty sure Marley snogged Sirius at a party once-though she denied it later. It took me awhile to understand the appeal; for most of our school years, I was immune. In fact, I was disgusted. The fact that these four boys basically had a fan club that worshipped the very ground they walked on; that they could take regular girls and turn them into sad, squealing, excuses for human beings, ticked me off to no end. I didn't get what was so amazing about them-in fact, I found them rather irritating- and furthermore, I resented that usually calm, rational girls were reduced to tears by the antics of four decidedly unremarkable young boys who quite obviously couldn't care less. Every two weeks, there was another idiot who claimed that they were different-that either James or Sirius or Remus (and sometimes Peter) had changed for them. Of course, they always changed their tune when either James or Sirius or Remus made out with their best friend a few days later; I'll never forget the Pink Knickers Incident of fourth year, when Victoria Fernando and Sofia Keller, a terrible twosome from the year above us, had an epic falling out in the common room that lasted a full 24 hours, after Sofia found her friend's favorite pair of pink knickers under her then boyfriend, Sirius', four poster. I don't think my eardrums will ever be the same, and yet, girls just continued to fall for their tricks, and I'm quite positive that if Sirius had begged for Sofia to take him back (which he didn't; he spent the majority of that day laughing it up with his buddies by the Great Lake), she would've done so in a heartbeat. I'm almost glad that you're father won't be around to teach you any of his tricks; I would absolutely die if you ever treated a woman that way. And trust me- it just made it a lot more difficult when he finally found someone he actually cared about.

I don't know how to say this, love, but there was once a time when I considered your dad to be my worst enemy. Somebody- your uncle Sirius, probably- may've told you this before -Merlin knows there are a whole assortment of different stories that he could use to try and amuse you involving our little rivalry- but I don't want there to be any confusion. To be perfectly honest, I don't think I really ever hated James- like I always claimed to- but there was definitely a time when I belived differently. The first time we met, he managed to insult not only me but also my best friend and my choice of house. The next time we spoke, on the first day after the sorting, he made fun of my hair color (I was very insecure about it when I was younger) by telling me that all of the red in the Gryffindor common room made me blend into the wallpaper. Over the course of the year, he wormed his way into my life, slowly becoming the bane of my existence. He, Remus, Sirius, and Peter formed their little gang and quickly began making a name for themselves. They pulled many a trivial stunt our first year, but for some reason, I alway seemed to be the focus of their pranks. Once, during our first flying lesson, your father and his friends rigged my broom to go about five times as fast as it was supposed to. Another time, they charmed my skin to turn different colors every hour for a whole day- blue to purple to green to yellow; I looked like a chameleon, and Madam Pomfrey could not for the life of her figure out how to break the enchantment. I figured it was a Sirius Black original (he was always the one with the talent in the Charms department). Anyways, this pattern continued all the way through fourth year, until I was sure that my opinion of your father would never change. Don't get me wrong, I detested all of them, but there was something about James in particular that rubbed me the wrong way. While the others' antagonizing started and ended with the various tricks they enjoyed playing on me, your dad took it a step farther. For four years, all he ever did was make fun me, trip me in the corridors, and sabotage my potions when I wasn't looking, among other things. In my mind, he was an arrogant, rude, irresponsible, bullying jackass, and I wasn't lacking in evidence, so you can't really blame me that it took three more years for him to make a different impression on me. I've always been very habitual, set in my ways, suspicious of any sort of change. It makes me look like a bit of an idiot, now, that I misjudged him so completley when we were so obviously right for each other, but I'll go to the grave swearing that he's not the same person he used to be. He grew up.

The change began in the beginning of our fifth year, though I didn't notice it at first. I think this was because I was getting just as much attention from him as I always had; and it didn't register that it was a different sort of attention until about a month into term. It happened after lessons one crisp October day; I was sitting out by the lake with some mates of mine when we were approached by the whole lot of them. It was pretty awkward -Emma and Remus had broken up over the summer, and hadn't really spoken since- but as uncomfortable as the initial greeting was, it was nothing compared to what happened next. Because just then, after about a full minute of forced pleasantries, James Potter looked me in the eye, ran a hand through his hair, shot me one of his famous lopsided grins, and asked me to Hogsmeade. 

Now you have to understand; initially, I thought this was a prank. I thought that he had finally run out of cruel things to do to me and had settled for the lowest of the low; that he was so desperate to upset me that he would risk his own happiness. Undoubtedly, his plan was to take me on a date, turn me into one of his drooling groupies (as if), and then leave me, just like he did to all the others. My answer was automatic and completley reflective of my feelings for him. 

'Are you kidding me?' I laughed. Usually, I was more polite about these things, but I mean, this was Potter. When he didn't respond, just cocked his head to the side an gave me a bewildered look, I tried to make it more clear. 'This is a joke, right?'  
Now everyone was looking at me like I was crazy. Was I missing something? 'You hate me, Potter.' And I hate you, I added in my head, but it seemed rude to say it out loud. Not that I hadn't told him before; indeed, I had said many things to him in the heat of the moment that I would later come to regret, but it just seemed like the wrong time. He still looked pretty confused. 'What are you talking about, Evans?' he asked, his eyebrows furrowing. 'Do you think I'd be asking you to Hogsmeade if I hated you?' I snorted. 'Oh yeah, that logic is just perfectly sound. Potter, I'm not an idiot. Go find someone else to fool into bed with you; I'm sure you have plenty of other options.' As I said this, a gaggle of fourth year girls stumbled by, giggling and stumbling into each other when they caught sight of James, who winked before turning his attention back to me. 'Is that a no?' he asked, seeming shocked. Can't say I blame him, I was probably the first girl ever to reject him. 'Yes!' he raised an eyebrow, and the corners of his mouth twitched up a bit. 'I mean, no! Yes, its a no. I will not go to Hogsmeade with you.' And that was the end of it. He swept off after making some cheeky remark that I can't fully remember, not seeming too upset at all. I brushed off this slightly disturbing experience, succeeding in putting it in out of my mind, and went to Hogsmeade with my friends. James ended up going with some girl from the year ahead of us, whom he dated for about a week and then dumped just like all the others. I had completley forgotten about all of it after a while; on top of school and my new Prefect duties, I was having drama with Sev, and I didn't have time to worry about James Potter's failed attempts to make me fall in love with him. It didn't occur to me that he hadn't pulled anything else that year (yet) until, during one of our fights, Severus pointed it out. 'He fancies you! James Potter fancies you!' Those were his exact words. And they got me thinking. While I reassured my best friend that I knew James was an arrogant berk, it was true that he and his cronies had yet to pull any big stunts since we had come back to school, and through rounds and Prefect's meetings, I had come to discover that Remus wasn't actually so bad after all. Certainly, he was less conceited than the rest of them. When I got back to the dormitory, I voiced my doubts to Marley, who confirmed that the Marauders had seemed a little more tame that year so far. Years later, when I asked your dad about it, he said that he had been a bit shellshocked during this time. True, he had originally noticed me because, as he put it 'the summer had been kind' but when I said no to him, he was intrigued. He had grown up rich and pureblood, with houselves, a governess, a flat in Paris, the whole nine yards. He wasn't used to being told no, especially when it came to girls, and it was a habit of his to always go after what he was sure he couldn't have. It became more than that, obviously, but that was the initial reason for his advances; the start of it all. Not that I knew any of this back then. Then, it just seemed like he was messing with me.

The next time he asked me out was in the Great Hall, in the middle of November. I refused. He asked again two weeks later. I said no. His persistance was beginning to get a little annoying, and now, people were talking. It wasn't only Severus who thought that he fancied me anymore; I swear, everywhere I went there was a new rumor about how I had tainted his morning pumpkin juice with Amortentia (I was a bit of a Potions nerd) or threatned to chop his bits off, or something equally as ridiculous and unlikely. As time went on, his proposals only became more and more extravagant, until I was sure that he was only doing it to piss me off. My uncertainty about him faded away into an even stronger dislike than I'd had before. While everyone around me, including James himself, seemed to be realizing that he actually had feelings for me, I was only strengthened in my resolve that it was all one big joke, and it infuriated me that it was affecting my life so completley. What right did he have to mess around with my emotions? To turn me into another one of his countless public spectacles? I didn't want all this attention, I didn't want to be known as another one of the idiot girls who fell for all of his stupid tricks only to be tossed aside once he got bored with me, and it seemed unfair that just because he was determined to carry out his little plot, I was becoming one. Not only did I now have legions of fangirls glaring at me everywhere I went and attempting to poison my food, but Severus was always extremley touchy, James was following around my other mates, begging for advice about me, and all of this stress was making it difficult to focus on my studies, which the professors were noticing. It got to the point where your father was asking me just about every day, and I was seriously considering saying yes just to get him off my back. It was clear to me that the only thing attracting me to him was the thrill of the chase, so maybe if I finally gave in, it would all be over. I would probably only have to go on one or two dates with him; nothing official. He would get bored eventually. Looking back, I am so thankful than my pride prevented me from doing anything rash. Your father is the love of my life, truly, but I'm not sure if we'd got together back then that it would've lasted. There were things that had to happen first, things that we had to go through in order to be ready to be together. And the first of those things, something that would change our relationship and each of us individually forever, happened that very same year.

I already told you about the whole DADA O.W.L. debacle; I trust you don't need a recap. It was the end of the year, tensions were running high, and things got a little out of hand. Mostly, for me, the whole incident marked the end of my relationship with Severus, but as I've gotten older, I realize it actually signified a much bigger, more important change in my life. As I stormed away from your dad that day, after having told him off and (to my and all of the witnesses' knowledge) crushed his hopes of ever being with me for good, something inside him shifted. I sort of figured this out on my own, but James has since confirmed my suspicions, so I know what I'm talking about here. While I was yelling at him, your father discovered something for the first time. He actually cared about me. This was news to him, but once he realized, there was no denying it. His heart broke when I walked away from him that day, and he decided that he was going to make himself good enough for me, one way or another. I was no longer just a prize that he felt he had to win in order to prove himself. One day, I would be his, because when he wants something, truly wants something, there's no stopping him. Unlike him, I had no life changing revelations that day, but it was a turning point, even if I couldn't see it at the time. My life was about to begin; not just because of your dad or what was about to happen between us, but because of the war, and my friends, and all of the tragedy and joy that I was about to experience. That afternoon, as well as several other episodes that would occur over the course of the next two years, determined the person I was going to become, and while I didn't necessarily believe that sort of hogwash when I was younger (I was always a firm believer in shaping your own destiny; I thought things like soulmates and fate and karma were only romanticised by the people who were too scared to take charge of their own lives-a bit of a cynnacil world view, but what can I say?) it can no longer be denied. 

Sixth year was....different, to say the least. For one thing, your dad stopped asking me out three times a week, for which I was greatful. At the time it seemed like he had finally given up, but I would later learn that he was using that year to...remodel, if you will. Become someone that he knew I would want to be with. Since Sev and I no longer spoke to each other, I spent more time with Marley, Dorcas, Emmeline, and Alice, and we became very close. I threw myself into lessons; my ambition was officially to become an Auror, and my Transfiguration grade needed some serious improvement. The war was officialy becoming a crisis, and Dumbledore was scouting students to join his cause, unbeknownst to us. In all truth, this was really more of a transition year. The real, big changes were yet to come; especially where me and your father were concerned. 

That summer was uneventful. I spent most of it flaunting the fact that I was finally able to apparate and use magic outside of school; much to my sister's irritation. All of my friends were either on vacation or engaging in activities that were exclusive to people with their pure blood- which I obviously couldn't participate in- so for the most part, I was lonely. I didn't expect anything extraordinary to happen, and it didn't, until the very very last minute, on the 25th of August-when the letter came. 

Now, by this time, I had been a Prefect for two years, and I loved it. I loved feeling like I had accomplished something; like I was somehow the best of the best. Ever since I was eleven years old, I had felt like I had to prove myself , and to be considered special in some way, even among other magic people, seemed like a huge achievment. Anyways, I adored the title, but I never really imagined that it would grow into something even better. I figured whoever was going to become Head Girl, in these time, was going to be from one of the old families, the type of girl who cared much more about her social status than her academic achievments. In other words, the exact opposite of myself. So when my Hogwarts letter came, and the envelope was a little thicker than usual, I didn't pay it any attention. When I opened it, and something small and shiny fell out, I was still a little confused. Obviously, it wasn't normal- nothing of the sort had ever come in one of my letters before- but I never woud've suspected that I, Lily Evans, hot tempered, Charms devotee, muggle born Lily Evans, could be chosen for that sort of honor until I picked it up and saw what it was. A Head Girl's badge. 

I was ecstatic. Shocked-but ecstatic. My parents were so proud, and my friends were extremley happy for me. In fact, the only person who wasn't extremley happy for me was my sister, who acted just as bitter about the whole thing as she did whenever I accomplished anything. In the midst of all the craziness and celebration, it never occured to me to wonder who Head Boy was; the person that I'd be working with constantly for the next year. I guess somewhere, in the back of my mind, I just assumed it was Remus. He was a reigning Gryffindor Boys Prefect, and had been for the past two years, after all. Not to mention he was just about the most brilliant boy in our year. I knew Remus; I wanted it to be Remus. We were mates, sort of, and I knew he would work just as hard as I would on everything, unlike any of the other candidates. Because there were other candidates. Other candidates that I probably should have considered more seriously. 

On September 1st, my family and I drove over to Kings Cross. My badge was all polished and pinned to my sweater (I reckon I looked like a right swot) and I was more than ready for my first day as Head Girl. My new partner and I were scheduled to head the first Prefect's meeting of the year on the train. Naturally, I was the first one there. As soon as we pulled out of the platform, I said goodbye to Marley, Dorcas, Emma, and Alice, all of whom made fun of me for rushing off so early, and sped toward the Prefect's carriage, already mentally preparing what I was going to say to everyone. Again, I wasn't thinking about the fact that I was about to meet the Head Boy; it was the last thing I was thinking about, until I heard someone else enter the compartment. I was on the verge of greeting them 'Hey Remus!' until I heard them speak. That voice was familiar- it didn't necessarily have positive connotations in my mind- but it was....familiar. I couldn't quite place it. So I turned around, and who do I see? You guessed it. 

Potter. James Potter. And pinned to his cloak? A badge, identical to the one I had on. And the rest is history. 

I'm not going to bore you with the details; we're your parents, I doubt you have any interest in hearing. Long story short; your dad had changed. Big time. I hadn't noticed it last year, because we hardly spoke, but once I got to know him it was startlingly apparent. He had always been a good person, of course, you can't just change your entire personality like that, but he'd been immature. Most people overlooked it; let him get away with things because he was handsome, and kind, and funny, but I hadn't, and that's why he fell for me. At least, so I've been told. The next two months, we spent virtually all of our time together (not entirely out of choice). We shared a dorm, did rounds together, and ran Prefect's meetings; becoming friends perhaps a bit more quickly than was strictly considered normal. I suppose we were just drawn to each other. Apparently, we were quite flirty, and I found out later that all of our friends (Doras, Alice, Marlene, Emmeline, Remus, Sirius, and Peter) had placed bets on when we were going to get together. Of course, he still fancied me, but I was oblivious, and I didn't notice. To me, it seemed like he'd totally gotten over me, which was unfortunate, because now that he didn't try to hide all of his good qualities anymore, he was the most amazing person I'd ever met. I was falling for James Potter, and as much as I tried to fight it, tried not to turn into one of his naive idiot fangirls, for some reason, I felt as though I was different. Not in that he was in love with me or anything, like they all seemed to believe, but we were friends, and I'd never seen him treat another girl the way he treated me. 

We got together just before winter hols, a few weeks before Christmas. It was big and romantic and gooey, basically including everything that I had sworn I would never do in my entire life and all of the things I thought it was impossible to feel. Our first date was to Hogsmeade, naturally, which was gorgeous in the winter time, and he met my family a few months later, during Easter Holiday. Once we started dating, there was no going back; we were in love almost instantly and everything moved very quickly after that. Despite what I'd always said, I felt that was the proper way to do it, at least for us. We were engaged mid way through summer and married the following spring. I think you can figure out what happened after that all on your own. 

Like I said, not every person is going to find their soulmate like I did. Generally, people don't meet their future husband at eleven years old or fall in love over the course of just one school year. Its almost funny that I, one of the most cautious and unromantic people I'm sure you'll ever hear of, ended up married before any of my other friends (save for Alice) living out this great love story. In some ways, I hope you have more opportunities to find yourself, more experiences, and in some ways, I want the exact same thing for you. It would save you a lot of heartbreak, I've learned that from watching all of the other girls over the years putting themselves out there, and, in truth, it is the best thing thats ever happened to me. I want you to find that person, the one who makes you forgoe all common sense, the one that drives you absolutley mad in a way that you can't quite explain, because it doesn't feel the same as when anyone else drives you mad. If you're with her now, all I can say is that you need to hold onto her, and that I wish I could've met her and seen you as happy as you now are. Because if you have found her, then you are happy, no doubt about it. Despite all that we've gone through, I've always been happy, and will always be happy, as long as your father is by my side. It the best kind of happy there is possible to be, and I am so, so thankful that you get to be that way, if you are, and if you aren't- well maybe you chose the wrong time to open the letter.

Love Always,  
Mum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed it. Pretty please leave a comment for me! 
> 
> P.S. I don't own Harry Potter. At all.


	4. On Your Graduation Day

Dear Harry,  
Its weird- as I'm writing this, I can see you in the next room, playing with your little toy broomstick and traumatizing Calvin yet again. I swear, you're going to kill that cat one day, and I'm almost 99.9% sure that you're gonna be on that blasted broomstick when you do. You're so obsessed with that thing, its not even funny. At least, not to me. Your father is uneccesarily amused by the whole thing; he's convinced that you're going to go on to become the next Petrova Porksoff or something. Personally, I'd prefer a less dangerous profession. I don't exactly know who this Porksoff person is, but I'm sure he's endured two times more Quidditch related injuries than any normal person ought to in two life times. Dangerous, that sport is. Really, I don't understand people's infatuation with it.

Anyways, my point is that you're still a baby. My baby. I've been writing all of these letters imagining some handsome, strapping young man with an infinite amount of mates and all your O.W.L.s; someone sort of like your father, only less annoying. But the person I'm imagining doesn't exist-not really, not yet. Right now, all thats important to you is your toy broomstick and visits from your Uncle Wormtail, and you haven't gone through any of the stuff I've written about yet. Obviously, you haven't left for school yet (although your dad has already dubbed you a Gryffindor in the making), and you're not old enough to understand that you should be sad about what's happening to us, or any of the other people who we've lost. I don't think you've ever been in love; the only woman you've ever met besides myself is Mrs. Bagshot, and that would be a bit concerning, considering she's nearly ninety years old and all. So now, as I'm getting ready to talk to you about graduation, I'm having a little trouble thinking of what to say. I don't know why this never occured to me before, but I don't know you. At least not in the same way that most mothers know their children; that is, not well enough to give you any useful advice. I have no idea what you might be feeling right now- nervous, excited, nostalgic- because I don't know a thing about the way you deal with stuff like this; the big stuff. I mean, what are the odds that you actually turn into this ideal young wizard that I've always pictured? About zero. All I can really do is share my own experiences and pray that there's a big enough piece of me inside you for it to make a difference.

If you haven't jumped the gun and opened this envelope long before your actual graduation just because you're wondering what I might have to say, which, for the purposes of this letter, I'm going to assume you haven't, then you'll be around seventeen right now. Literally, a man. Its pretty hard to reconcile that with the chubby toddler I see waddling over to terrorize the cat some more right now, but its true. My baby boy is no longer a baby. I'm sure that as you've grown over the years, Hogwarts has come to mean just as much to you as it does to me, your father, your uncles, and the hundreds of generations of students before us. Its odd, but there's just something about that school- never in my life have I met anyone who hasn't spent the best years of their lives there, and I'm willing to bet that the same goes for you, too. I'm not quite sure what it is, I don't think anyone truly knows, but there is a piece of it in all of us, some way that it influenced our lives, and changed us forever. You may be worried that after you leave, the memories of it will begin to fade; that you'll start to forget just how boring Professor Binns' lectures were (even I can't deny it) or how to navigate your way to your common room, but its been four years since I left, and every single memory is still as fresh as paint in my mind. Because Hogwarts- the classes, the grounds, the professors- is a part of me, just like its a part of you, and anyone else who's ever passed through the great double doors into the Entrance Hall on their first day of term, trembling with nerves because some upperclassmen told them that to be sorted they had to fight off a giant mountain troll. 

I know I must sound unnaturally attached to a castle; if I'd heard myself talking even in the middle of my time at Hogwarts, say, third year or so, I probably would've been a little bit freaked out, as well, but I honestly believe that everything I went through there made me who I am. Being accepted into that school saved me from a life of endless trite normalcy; the kind that only the likes of Petunia truly approve of. Once I got there, meeting your father and being placed in Gryffindor stopped me going the way Sev wanted; an outcast Slytherin with an obsession for the Dark Arts. If I hadn't been magical, or if my parents had had any qualms about sending me away, or I never stepped into that compartment on the first day of school, or Voldemort never infiltrated our ranks- my life would have gone in a completley different direction. Thats the beauty of the system; it helps you discover who you are, like all great educational institutions do. Its suited to accomodate everyone who enters its doors- no matter what type of blood we have, or what virtues/ vices we possess- and give us a safe place to become ourselves. I can only hope that you had a positive experience there (like I said, I always pictured you with legions upon legions of friends and a Head Boy badge pinned to your front, but that's just me. Maybe I'm byast. I'm also convinced that you're a budding young genius), and to be honest, I don't really doubt it. Even though I don't know exactly what your life was like before hand, or what its like now, I'm sure that Hogwarts found some way to come into it and make it better than it was; to make you better. 

I woke up on my last day of term seventh year with mixed emotions- half of me was ecstatic, and I'm pretty sure the other half was clinically depressed. Because while I was excited to finally be done with lessons and all of that- to be going out into the world and starting life for real- it was hard for me to picture life outside of Hogwarts. It had been all I'd known for seven years, after all, and I was worried that the wizarding world wouldn't seem half as magical as it did inside the castle out there. Of course, I was wrong, but at the time I was caught up in the excitement of the day. I lay in bed for almost an hour worrying over what would happen after I crossed the barrier from Platform 9 3/4 for the very last time, until finally the rest of the girls woke up and convinced me to get dressed. That morning was a blur- it just seemed like a series of 'lasts'. The last time I would ever wake up in the castle, the last time I would eat breakfast in the Great Hall; that sort of thing. We didn't have a ceremony, exactly, like in muggle schools-we just went to classes as usual, but we didn't actually do any work. Mostly, we just discussed what our plans were; your dad and Uncle Sirius had been accepted into the auror school, Alice and Frank had as well, but they were planning on marrying before they started training in September. Marley, Dorcas, and I were all volunteering at St. Mungo's (they were getting a flat in London together, but I was moving in with your father) and Emmeline had a job lined up the Ministry. It was just a normal day, but it seemed extremley significant somehow. Needless to say, the 'clinically depressed' side of me was quickly winning out. 

I'm too embarrassed to go into too much detail about what happened when the final bell of the day rang. Let's just say there was a lot of crying, and hugging, and I'm pretty sure I knocked Peter over at one point. Wonderful mates that they are, everyone forgave me my breakdown fairly quickly, but I still made them all vow never to speak of it ever again before we boarded the train. We spent the ride to London playing Exploding Snap and sharing sweets from the trolley. It was a surprisingly average end to a surprisingly average day, and while I was a bit underwhelmed at first, I realized that it was just the ideal ending. After almost a decade spent in an enviorment full of talking portraits and moving staircases, it seemed only fitting that the grand finale be a bit more commonplace (or, as commonplace as an enchanted steam train and exploding playing cards can get). When we got to Kings Cross, it got a little more surreal. Suddenly, I wasn't the only one who was begging for everyone to just forget my fits of hysteria; all ten of us lost our grip at one point (I even saw each of the lion-hearted Marauders shed a tear at one point, though they deny it adamantly now). It was really sinking in- none of us would ever see our beloved Hogwarts again- but my tears, at least, weren't ones of sadness. After all, it wasn't like I would forget what happened there, or lose contact with any of the people I'd met, or have my magic taken away or anything else that would merit that kind of anguish. Rather, I was crying for all the memories; for the end of an era.

Because really, that's what this all is. If your not a complete deadbeat (or if you're not planning on living off of the ungodly amounts of galleons that your father's family has saved up over the years) then you'll be getting ready to go to work soon-to become a real grown up. Soon enough, you'll get your own flat and begin cashing your own paychecks, and a little ways down the road, you may even be starting a family of your own(perhaps with that lovely girl I mentioned in the last letter, mmmm?) You're standing on the threshold of what is often called 'real life', and you won't have Dumbledore or Hagrid or McGonagall to help you through it all anymore, or tell you how to handle things. That's not to say you won't have any support; you are, after all, only seventeen, and not a complete adult yet, but its time to start making your own decisions, and flourishing as the amazing young man who those people and so many others have helped you to become. I wish you the best of luck. 

Love,  
Mum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: That one was pretty short, but ya' know, its a major life event, and I just felt like I shouldn't skip it. I hope you liked it anyways, though, and I'm gonna be annoying and ask you to please please please leave a review telling me what you thought. Have an amazing day, my doves(er...night?)! Mwah!
> 
> Disclaimer: I'm not sure if I've been doing this or not...oops. Well, obviously, I don't own Harry Potter. So, ya' know, don't sue me.

**Author's Note:**

> This is just an idea I thought was cute- I don't own Harry Potter! Sort of a starter for me- my very first one. I would love some feedback, so please don't hesitate to tell me what you think! I would really appreciate it!


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